


Decadent

by trillingstar



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: 50kinkyways, Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-16
Updated: 2009-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby gets more than he intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decadent

**Author's Note:**

> Cracktastic. Now with amazing! spoilery art (link in end notes).  
> Thank you to [ozsaur](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsaur) and [beechercreature](http://beechercreature.livejournal.com/profile).  
> 

  
It's late when Toby leaves work, with a few hours left until dawn. He's kept late hours for years now; there's never any trouble finding clients who prefer the cover of darkness when they visit their lawyer. He's hungry, even after an extended lunch with his boss earlier in the day. He'll pick something up on the way home.

At the front desk, Walter greets him by name and they make small talk about the long hours shared by partners and security guards. Toby signs the logbook and takes the elevator down three flights to the underground parking garage. It's late June, and warm out, so he's driving the Dodge convertible that his third wife gave him as a wedding present back in '36. He takes the time to tug off his tie, roll up his sleeves and put the top down.

There are a few different streets for cruising when he wants a snack before sleep, and tonight he chooses Laramore, where the boys are desperate and plentiful. Tonight's no different, even at 2 a.m., and Toby spots a few young men he knows by name. Each of them eyes him warily. He knows they find his predilections… odd, but he always tips well. He's almost decided on a tall redhead who tastes like spun gold when a figure appears out of the gloomy mouth of an alley. It's not a boy standing in the shadows – no, this is a man, wearing denim jeans and heavy boots. The slouched line of his body against the wall catches and holds Toby's attention, and the tight black t-shirt pulled snug on the man's biceps doesn't hurt either. He's not Toby's normal fare – he's certainly not a street kid or a runaway, and he's no innocent either.

He lets the car speak for him with a low grumble. The man's gaze travels the length of the car and then looks directly at him, and they reach an understanding in a brief moment. He settles into the passenger side of the full seat as if he owns the car and Toby's the chauffeur.

"Chris," he says.

Toby nods. He starts to say 'Thomas', which is the name he's going by lately, but then changes his mind and gives Chris his real name. He knows he's staring, but he doesn't want to look away. Chris is gorgeous, from his close-cropped dark hair to his blue eyes and the promise of dimples when he smiles. Toby lets his eyes wander over Chris's muscular chest and legs, and when he finds his way back to Chris's face, there's a smirk that reads 'Any day now'.

Toby smiles as he turns his concentration to driving, on shifting gears smoothly, and they listen to the purr of the engine and the noise of rushing air over and around the car. Chris is confident; he doesn't make small talk, and Toby's impressed.

They're driving down a long, flat stretch of empty road without any cars in sight. The sky is cloudy above them, and the faint beams of the headlights barely cut through the rich darkness. The air feels damp and heavy, but it's not warm enough to storm yet.

Toby touches the brakes gently as they round a turn; the car moves through and out of the curve and he feels warm fingers moving up his leg. Chris grips Toby's thigh with one large hand and squeezes. Taking his foot off the accelerator, Toby stares at the road while Chris stares at Toby and they're silent as the car coasts to a stop at the side of the road, and then Chris reaches and grabs Toby through his trousers. Toby's whole body shudders in anticipation.

Toby catches Chris's grin out of the corner of his eye. He turns the car off, unbuckles his seat belt, and turns to face Chris. The moon peeks out of the fast-moving clouds long enough to make Chris's eyes shine, and Toby stares, enthralled, and then takes a deep, calming breath. Chris smells like leather and sweat, and there's another man's scent on him, probably an earlier trick. Toby growls. Chris's eyes widen and then he seems to relax, though he watches Toby carefully, his body tense and instincts on full alert.

Toby parades out a smarmy smile, one he uses to reassure clients and victims alike that everything's going to be a-okay, no problemo. Chris's shoulders remain tense and his fingers play with the handle on the door. Obviously, he doesn't buy it, and that makes Toby like him even more. But Chris lets Toby come closer, sliding across the maroon leather seat, and Toby puts a hand on Chris's shoulder and pushes him back against the seat. Chris allows it when Toby untucks the hem of his t-shirt from his jeans, and rises up obligingly so that Toby can slide his hand up Chris's back, fingers on warm, smooth skin. Chris lets Toby grab his chin and turn his head from side to side in a parody of inspection, even though he narrows his eyes in distaste. His shoulders are stiff. Money hasn't changed hands yet but Chris is still merchandise.

Toby leans in further and Chris doesn't pull back, but finally, he speaks. "No kissing." His voice is husky.

"I don't want to kiss you," Toby whispers.

Chris shoots him a look of disbelief.

Moving closer, Toby presses their thighs together, his hand warm between Chris's back and the seat. He strokes Chris's chest, down and over the bump of a nipple, and skirts around Chris's zipper. He picks up the path again on Chris's inner thigh, kneading it roughly. Leaning in, he sniffs along Chris's jaw line from the curve of his chin to his earlobe.

Chris shivers.

Toby pulls back. "No kissing," he promises solemnly.

Chris looks at Toby as though he's the strangest person on Earth and then sighs softly in acceptance and relaxes, leaning his head on the back of the seat, exposing his neck.

Toby nods in satisfaction.

The lightest touches, the tiniest puffs of breath, and Toby scents Chris's skin. He hears the blood pumping through Chris's veins. He imagines the firm skin yielding to his bite, the hot splash of blood against his tongue, and his cock jerks in response. Toby wants to sink his teeth into the base of Chris's neck, right where he could lean his head on a shoulder as he drains Chris dry. Flicking his tongue against Chris's warm, fragrant skin, Toby presses his lips to the pulse point. He drags his mouth upward again, nibbling and licking as far behind Chris's ear as he can reach, eliciting another shivery reaction.

Obviously, Chris is not immune to the worship: Toby suffers through several short, indrawn breaths and muffled gasps until a real moan passes Chris's lips. Moving up from Chris's thigh, he presses the heel of his hand firmly against Chris's cock. Chris moans again, rocking forward, and Toby clenches his eyes shut to fully enjoy the barrage of erotic imagery flooding his mind. Chris sprawled out on red satin sheets, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, the excitement on his face directed at Toby. Chris standing tall, his arms chained above his head, scratches decorating his chest and blood trickling down his ribcage. Chris slicing into Toby's tongue with his first set of fangs as they kiss passionately, his hands on either side of Toby's face, ravaging his mouth, grinding their bodies together.

Chris squirms as Toby trails a line of kisses down his neck. The collar of his t-shirt thwarts Toby's progress, so he rips it away, the tearing sound of the cloth loud in the quiet night, and he's about to lean back in when he feels a stinging pinch on his stomach. Toby looks down and his eyebrows climb high in surprise.

Chris has pulled a knife on him.

Toby feels a chuckle working wildly to escape his throat.

He notices that Chris holds the knife tightly and correctly - his wrist isn't turned or weak, and the tip of it's sliced through Toby's pristine white dress shirt. He feels it poking against his abdomen. Toby lets the chuckle out as a manic grin; he doesn't mind if the shirt's slashed to ribbons, and if he's cut a little along the way, well. It happens.

"Are you going to hurt me?" he asks shakily.

"I don't know," Chris answers thoughtfully. "You tore my shirt."

"I'll pay for it," Toby says, wriggling a little at the end of the knife.

"Yeah," Chris replies, a tinge of humor infusing his voice. "You will."

They stare at one another. Toby's hand presses on Chris's dick, and they're both still hard. Holding eye contact, Toby leans, closer to Chris, and into the knife. He gasps when it nicks his skin, and they look down at the red blossoming onto the fabric of his shirt.

Chris jerks his gaze back up to Toby's face. "What's wrong with you?"

He doesn't sound pissed off or scared. He sounds curious.

Toby doesn't reply. If his heart could beat, it would be hammering staccato in his chest. He licks his lips.

Chris hesitates, then he twists his hand a half-inch to the right, and then there's more blood on Toby's shirt.

Toby groans. He tips his head back and bares his teeth at the sky. There's a rumble of desire in his belly and he wants Chris in him, on him, spread open before him, laid out like a feast.

Chris bites his bottom lip, and his eyes are hooded and dark with lust.

Toby thinks he's in love.

Chris pushes, and Toby feels the tip of the knife scoring his skin and entering his body. Pain registers sharply through the haze of _craving_ and he huffs out an excited breath, groaning. Swiftly, he lunges forward, and the knife sinks in up to the hilt. Chris's fist is flush against his belly. Toby stabs his teeth into Chris's neck and drinks in long pulls, the flavor of the man beneath him invigorating, stimulating, and he swallows convulsively.

Chris bucks against Toby's hands, kicking out and trying to claw at Toby's head, but his arm is trapped between the seat and Toby's shoulder, and Toby's not giving up. His taste explodes onto Toby's tongue. His blood washes into Toby's mouth and Toby gulps him down. The slick leather scent of Chris's skin surrounds them and Chris quivers against Toby's mouth. He shakes when Toby runs his tongue across the sensitive bite mark, and then he's not trying to get away. He wants to get closer. Letting go of the knife, Chris bends his knee, twining his leg around Toby's hip.

Toby moves over Chris, settling down to straddle his lap. Chris is hard everywhere. Toby pushes his arm across Chris's throat, curling around his neck. Chris tilts his head back, pushing his hips up while Toby grinds down on him through a layer of cloth and denim; it's not enough, Toby wants more, and Chris tastes so goddamn good.

Chris comes with a hoarse shout and Toby feels the heat against his dick. Worming his tongue into the wound on Chris's neck, Toby licks past muscle and tendons. Chris swallows and Toby feels the vibration in his mouth. Chris's flavor, his scent, the warmth of his body creates a cocoon around them. Toby remembers the look of pleasure in Chris's eyes when he pushed the knife deeper and he gnaws on Chris's neck as he comes.

Toby suckles for a long time after that, until Chris's heartbeat is a weak tap in his chest. Toby senses the sunrise. Pulling away, he has to move to raise the cloth top, and he stares down at Chris from the driver's side. He should push Chris from the car and leave, call 911 when he's far enough away.

Toby's putting on his seatbelt when the strap knocks against the handle of the knife still lodged in his gut. He looks at it, then at Chris, who's sprawled on the seat, nearly unconscious, his shirt torn, neck a bloody mess, and a wet stain on his fly.

Toby eyes him. He's not hungry for blood anymore, but his blood… _him_… Toby wants another taste.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt 13: blood play on the [50kinkyways](http://community.livejournal.com/50kinkyways/profile) community.  
> Toby's driving a [1936 Dodge convertible with side mounts and a rumble seat](http://pics.livejournal.com/trillingstar/pic/000gsyz7).  
> NOW WITH ART!!! [Awesome awesome art](http://trillingstar.livejournal.com/218091.html) by Haru776.  
> 


End file.
